


the time and space between us

by piginawig



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Fix-It, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, minor losers club - Freeform, mostly mentions of blood, past myra/eddie, the violence is movie-level and not talked about in a lot of detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginawig/pseuds/piginawig
Summary: For Eddie Kaspbrak, dying was just like falling asleep.And then he woke up.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 24
Kudos: 312





	the time and space between us

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr](http://bookeddie.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Title from "Ashley" by Halsey.
> 
> This is not edited, not beta'd, not proofread... We post with no care for the consequences. (But please let me know (nicely) if there are mistakes!)

Richie was on his knees in front of him, tightly holding his shoulders.

“Hey, man,” he croaked. “You’re gonna be fine, okay?”

Eddie was cold, and he could no longer feel the giant wound that went straight through him. Richie was in front of him, but he was a little hazy, going in and out of focus.

“I know,” he whispered. He could taste the blood coating his throat and tongue and tried not to think about it too hard. This wasn’t so bad. Richie was close. He got to see his friends one last time. He was spilling blood, but he thought maybe that blood, his _life_ blood, contained all of it - all the confusion, and the doubt, and the fear. His mother’s voice drained out of him, his worry drained out, his filter. Suddenly the idea that he’d spent so much of his life coasting, living with feelings he didn’t feel and fighting fears that weren’t his own left him bitter, but then the bitterness drained out of him, too.

Maybe dying wasn’t so bad.

“I gotta go, okay? But I’ll be right back. Eddie, stay with me, okay? Stay with me.” Richie’s voice was desperate, and Eddie opened his eyes one last time, to give himself one last look at blue eyes behind dark framed glasses, at pink lips and stubbled cheeks and messy hair. He watched as Richie stood and ran toward the others, and then he closed his eyes.

Dying was just like falling asleep.

And then he woke up.

He squinted in the bright light, brought a hand to shield his eyes, and pushed on the ground to stand up, only stopping when his fingers slid through blades of grass. He realized quickly he was propped up against a large tree, one that seemed achingly familiar. Slowly his eyes adjusted, and he realized with a jolt that he was in his childhood backyard in Derry. He looked around at everything littering the ground; he saw pop-up soccer goals, a plastic basketball hoop, a swing set, and a playhouse. He remembered them only vaguely; once his father had died his mother had thrown everything away. He wasn’t to play outside anymore; he was allergic to the grass and the pollen and it would irritate his asthma and all those toys were a terrible accident waiting to happen.

At the thought of his asthma he reached instinctively for his pocket, only to find his inhaler gone. Suddenly he remembered tossing it into the fire, suddenly he remembered Richie in the deadlights, he remembered –

He looked down his front, shocked to find himself in his white tee and blue jacket and jeans, in perfectly pristine condition. He reached up slowly and put a hand to his cheek. The knife wound was gone.

Before he could freak out about it too much, the back door opened and two little boys came running outside, yelling unintelligible things at each other, breathless giggles filling the yard. With a pang in his chest he watched himself and Richie, no more than five years old, dash into the playhouse. The back door opened again and his breath hitched as his father stepped outside, followed by Wentworth Tozier.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he murmured, frozen in place. He looked back toward the playhouse, where a tiny Eddie and Richie were laughing. Was this it? Was this where you went when you died? He turned back to his dad, sitting next to Wentworth on the porch swing. His dad was pale and skinny, and Eddie remembered that. That was how he looked in the months leading up to his death.

“Race you to the swings!” The young Eddie yelled gleefully. The boys tumbled out of the playhouse and took off running toward the swing set. The little Eddie didn’t even notice the grass stains on his knees. They both took a swing and kicked off, egging each other on to go _higher higher higher!_ He heard a quiet, deep laugh and turned to the sound, finding himself smiling as he watched his dad laugh at his own childhood antics.

“I can go way farther than you!” Richie squealed, voice carrying in the wind.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Betcha a comic book!”

“On three!”

Eddie watched them count down together before flinging themselves off the swings, landing hard on the grass before bursting into more laughter.

He instinctively looked toward the porch, a reflex from constantly being on the lookout for his mom, never wanting her to see if he did something dangerous. He felt anxious for his younger self – jumping off a swing was something worthy of getting grounded over.

Instead of his mom, he saw Went standing in the yard with his dad next to him. But the frailness was gone; he looked more like the Frank in the pictures his mom had showed him from before Eddie had been born. He was smiling.

The noise behind him faded, and when he turned around the boys were gone.

“Long time, no see,” his dad said pleasantly. He jumped, turning around and realizing the space between them had shrunk and his father stood right in front of him.

“What are you guys doing – what - why are we here?”

“What, you think I’d get to Heaven and not head straight for my best friend?” Went asked, smiling broadly. He sounded just like Eddie remembered – friendly, like he was always looking to make someone smile. If Wentworth was here with his dad, did that mean Maggie was still alive? He hadn’t even thought to ask Richie. He glanced around for a glimpse of Richie’s mom, but found none. It was only then that he realized his own mother wasn’t there, either.

“Where’s Mom?” He asked his father, anxiously awaiting her arrival, dreading the sight of her.

“She’s…” Frank sighed softly. “She’s not here, son. And if I… If I’d known what she was going to do to you, the way she was going to treat you…” He shook his head, as if trying to shake off the guilt. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, bud.”

Eddie stared blankly at his father, his face open and sincere, his eyes the same brown eyes he saw in the mirror every day. He looked around him, almost expecting something to happen, for someone to turn into Pennywise, tell him this was an illusion, that it wasn’t real.

“What’s happening?” He asked quietly.

“Well, when we got here, neither of us really had much of a choice. We closed our eyes on earth and opened them up here. You were here, five years old, playing and laughing. I could still see you as you grew up, glimpses here and there, all the important moments of your life… But you never got older here. Always innocent and young and happy.

“And when Went showed up, Richie did, too. Five years old, missing his front tooth and everything. But you… Son, I’m not so sure this is where you’re supposed to be right now. And I think – Well, I think there’s somebody out there who wants you to have a choice. A second chance.”

“A chance to what?”

“To live.”

His eyes widened. “ _What?”_

But Frank just shrugged and smiled softly at him.

“What about – do you know what happened? Did they kill It? Are they okay?”

The two men in front of him glanced at each other before turning back to Eddie.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

It happened as fast as a blink; he closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was back in It’s lair. His heart immediately began racing, his nerves on edge, and he had only a moment to realize his body was still functioning normally – he was still breathing, his heart was still pumping.

“There they are.” His dad pointed to the crater where It had landed so long ago. Eddie looked and saw his friends standing in a circle, something in their joined hands in the middle.

“What’s happening?”

“That’s It’s heart… They’re killing It,” Went said, a proud smile on his face. His eyes were trained on Richie.

He heard Richie mutter Eddie’s name before rushing to the opposite side of the lair. They followed him and watched as he fell to the ground in front of Eddie’s body.

“Oh my God,” Eddie mumbled, his hand covering his mouth. His stomach twisted into uncomfortable knots.

Richie was holding him, trying to wake him up. Eddie knew he wasn’t going to.

He hardly realized he was crying as he watched the others drag Richie from the lair, as rocks started to rain around them, somehow never hitting himself or either father. Eddie wondered briefly if they were really there at all. He blinked ready to chase after his friends, and instead he was suddenly outside Neibolt. Richie was screaming his name, only kept from going back into the house by Ben and Mike and Bill. Beverly and Stan were crying, watching him.

“Can I – Can I tell him I’m okay?” Eddie asked desperately.

His dad frowned, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, bud. But I think – I don’t think either of you should be here any longer.”

Eddie glanced to the side and saw Wentworth watching Richie, tears streaming down his face.

When he blinked, they were standing in the grass in front of the quarry.

“He always loved you, you know?”

Eddie startled, watching as Wentworth wiped his face of his tears.

“Maggie and I… We used to worry so much about him. We knew how the world was, the way people look down on others just for who they love. Hell, I’d never been particularly comfortable with it until I saw the way he looked at you. You start to realize that nothing’s more important than that, that look of love on your kid’s face. He never said anything, of course. I can’t blame him for it. I’m sure it was… I’m sure it was hard for him.”

“You think he’s gay?” Eddie’s hands shook.

“Well, he always dated girls, and he seemed to be happy with it. And there was Sandy, after college. They lived together for a while and he loved her, he did, but you could always tell there was something missing. Some reason he could never fully give himself to her. Of course, we were far away from Derry by then, but if we’d remembered you… Well, Sandy would’ve made much more sense. Once I was here, I remembered everything and was able to see the full picture. And, of course, we saw you with your wife. It was really shit that you didn’t know each other after high school but… I was… I was almost happy Rich didn’t have to see you marry someone else.”

Eddie felt his chest ache and he hated it, wished all of this would go away, he didn’t want to be reminded how fucked up everything was. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t –

The quiet was broken by a splash in the water, followed by another, another, another, another, another.

He watched as his friends swam around, rinsing the worst of the sewers off. His eyes were on Richie, sitting on a rock, looking down at his glasses. After a few moments he put them back on and swam closer to the others, dipping under the water and coming back up, hair pushed back.

“Eddie would’ve hated this. Trying to get clean in dirty water.”

He watched the small laughs, tired and sad in the quiet of the afternoon. The peace was only broken when a sob filled the air.

The sound was more painful to Eddie than the claw through his chest had been. Without thought, he rushed into the water until he was chest deep, in front of Richie.

“Rich,” he cried. “I’m right here – I’m here! I’m okay, _please_ –“

But none of the losers reacted. Richie kept crying and the others wrapped him in a group hug. Eddie wished so hard it hurt that he could be a part of that hug.

He turned back to see his dad and Wentworth on the shore. He looked at them desperately, but both of them frowned. Frank shook his head sadly. Eddie waded through the water until he was back on dry land.

“How do I get back there?” He asked, looking between the two men. “How do I get back to him?”

“Is that what you want?” Frank’s expression was open and gave nothing away, but to Eddie his words felt like knives. Going back to Richie would mean leaving his father.

“I –“ He paused, his heart pounding endlessly in his chest. “I _missed_ you,” he croaked.

“I missed you, too, son.” He put a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “But you can’t think about how it’ll make me feel, or even how it’ll make Richie feel. You have to do what’s right for _you_.”

He blinked and they were on a dirt road, but Wentworth had disappeared. He glanced around, looking for him, and instead saw Richie on his knees in front of the fence at the kissing bridge.

“What’s he doing?”

“Go see for yourself.”

He took tentative steps toward Richie. His breath hitched when the carving finally came into view. Richie was running his fingers reverently over the wood.

**R + E**

“I think, eventually, he’d be okay without you,” Frank said. They watched Richie smile at the initials through his tears.

When Eddie blinked again, they were in his apartment in New York. No one was home, the silence was thick and oppressive, and Wentworth was still gone.

“Where’s Went?” He asked, afraid, somehow, he’d never come back.

“He’s taking care of Richie,” Frank answered. Before Eddie could ask what that meant, he smiled sadly. “Sometimes when things are bad for someone we love down on Earth, we can… do little things, send little signs to bring them hope. Went’s just giving Richie a little hope right now.”

Eddie chewed his lip, looking around the apartment that could belong to anyone, that had no elements of home, of _him_ , anywhere. “Dad… Do you hate me?”

Frank almost looked offended. “Why would I hate you?”

Eddie shook his head and let out a breath. “I married somebody I didn’t love. And I – I love Richie. I always did, and I know that’s wrong, and Ma would’ve –“

“Kid,” Frank interrupted. His face had taken on a fire Eddie had never seen. “I’m going to be sincere with you: Fuck what your mother would’ve said.” Eddie’s eyes widened. “Your mom… I suppose she meant well early on but… Well. She always was a bit selfish. And we rushed into things so young. _Too_ young. And she let all her fears turn her cold, Eddie, and that hurt you.”

Frank’s hands were moving quickly, waving around, and Eddie realized he knew so much about his mother, who had hurt him, and so little about his dad. His dad who used his hands when he spoke, who had a dimple in his right cheek, who smiled like the sun… His dad who loved him the way a parent should.

“Son,” I know you’ve got her in your head telling you what to do, what’s right and wrong, but you need to tell that voice to stop. _She’s_ the one that’s wrong, Ed. I wish I could’ve stuck around long enough to be the voice that stayed with you, I do, but –“ He sniffed and sighed heavily. “All I can tell you is that you loving Richie is anything but wrong, okay? Love like that doesn’t happen to everybody. But if you choose to go back to him… You need to know there will be things to deal with.”

Eddie jumped at the sudden opening of the front door. Myra walked in, phone held to her ear and tears pouring down her cheeks.

“ _No_ ,” she all but yelled into the phone. Eddie winced at the venom in her voice. He’d never heard her sound like that. “You are _not_ welcome at my Eddie’s funeral! Who are you, thinking you can just tell a woman her husband’s dead and then expect to be welcome at his funeral?!”

“Is that –“ Eddie whipped his head around to face his dad. She couldn’t be talking about his friends, right? She couldn’t be –

“You won’t even tell me what happened! How am I supposed to believe you’re not the reason he’s dead?!”

The words hit Eddie like a punch in the gut and he wanted to scream at her, scream how wrong she was, but then in front of him was Richie again, this time in the lobby of the Townhouse. The others sat around him, and they all looked devastated.

“How could she say that?” Ben’s voice was horrified. Beverly shrugged and wiped at the tears on her face.

Stanley’s face was set in an angry frown. “Sounds like something his mother would’ve said. Or, _did_ say, after he broke his arm.”

Beverly visibly winced, and Eddie remembered hearing his mom’s voice, muffled through the car door, speaking to Beverly as though she were less than the dirt on her shoe. He knew Myra _looked_ like his mom, but he never thought her version of overbearing love and affection was malicious the way his mother’s was. He suddenly felt a wave of gratitude wash over him that they’d never had children. He could almost see it - losing Eddie would turn Myra cold the same way losing Frank had destroyed his mother.

“How could he love her?” Richie’s said hoarsely. “Why did _she_ get to have him? She doesn’t even – She’s horrible, she sounded like his mom, blaming us for – for –“ He choked back a sob. “She couldn’t have been right for him, she couldn’t have loved him like –“ He put his head in his hands. “He never even knew. That I – that I loved him. He never even knew, he should’ve at least gotten to _know_ … Even if he didn’t… I know he didn’t love me like that but at least he could’ve _known_ … he should’ve gotten to know there was somebody that loved him more than anything.”

Eddie’s chest ached with desperation. “Is there no way I can talk to him? Or give him – give him a sign, like you said Went did? Can’t I – Isn’t there _something_?”

His father wouldn’t meet his eyes and his stomach dropped. This was it. This was the choice he needed to make. He could stay here with his father, with Went, and maybe one day down the line Richie would join them. Or he could go back, deal with the mess his life had become and hope to God things worked out, that Richie really did feel that way, would really want to be with him. That almost didn’t even feel like a real possibility, but he looked at his dad, the dad he’d never really gotten to know, and he felt like he could count on him. His dad wouldn’t change, this _place_ wouldn’t change, if he stayed. This was the safe bet.

He looked again at Richie, crying into his hands as their friends tried to comfort him, but he only got to watch for a moment before he was back in his childhood backyard. The young Richie and Eddie were yelling, running in circles and firing water guns at each other.

He stood on the porch next to his father and Wentworth.

“He’s hurt in a way that’ll never go away.” Went’s voice was soft and sad. “But he’s strong. He’ll get through it. Especially now that he’s got friends to help him. He’s not going to be alone, Eddie, no matter what you choose.”

Eddie swallowed thickly. He looked out in the yard as the young Richie did a roll in the grass to avoid a spray of water from Eddie and knocked his already wet glasses off. Both boys were giggling wildly.

He glanced back at his dad. Frank smiled sadly at him but said nothing, only holding his arms out for a hug. Eddie immediately fell into the embrace, breathing in the scent of his father, finally feeling the kind of parental love he should’ve had his whole life.

“I’ll always be watching over you, son,” Frank said after a few moments. Eddie wiped his eyes as they pulled back.

“How do I go back?” He asked, his eyes drawn again to the small boys. “How do I get to him?”

Then from the yard, Richie yelled, “Cool, a turtle!” The young Eddie was enthralled, leaning into Richie’s space, shouting, “ _lemme see the turtle_!”

“I want to go back to him,” he said under his breath. His chest hurt in the best way. He took another quick moment to watch his younger self stare at a younger Richie with awe before his body was wracked with pain. His eyes shut and he fell to the ground.

The first breath was weak, like he had to yank the air from collapsed lungs, but the next breath was stronger. He hadn’t opened his eyes but he knew he was in the cavern, on the ground where he had died.

 _Had_ he died?

He slowly brought his hands to Richie’s jacket, pressed against his chest. He knew what was underneath. How was he supposed to survive that kind of wound? Had he just dreamed everything he’d seen? What was the point of coming back here just to die again?

A tingling wave spread across his chest and left him heaving. He coughed, spitting out the blood left in his mouth, and finally opened his eyes. He looked down at the crumpled jacket and put it on the ground beside him. His shirt was ripped open and he was covered in blood, but –

He brought a shaking hand to his chest, gasping at the feeling of thick, twisted skin beneath his fingers. He followed the scar all the way down to abdomen. He sat forward and felt the same closed scar on his back.

“ _Eddie!”_

He looked up to see the losers running toward him, Richie in front. Richie all but fell to the ground in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“Hey, bud,” he said softly. “How are you doing?”

“Rich…” He coughed, more blood coming up through his throat, spilling out of his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly tears began leaking out, as wet coughs wracked his chest, as he spit up blood until he finally felt like he could breathe again. Richie’s hands were in the air between them, like he wanted to reach out to comfort Eddie but didn’t know how.

“Eddie, what’s -“ Beverly started, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Guys, the place is gonna come down, we gotta go.” Eddie thought it was Bill’s voice, but then corrected himself. There was no stutter. Maybe Mike?

“Eds, come on,” Richie said, wrapping his arm around Eddie’s back and helping him to his feet. Eddie stood on shaky legs, resting his weight on Richie. There was a dull throb in his chest and down his stomach, an aching down the length of his back. His entire body hurt and his mouth tasted like blood. “Can you – I can carry you, or Ben, he’s strong, we can –“

“I’m okay,” Eddie told him, shaking his head. The others had rushed ahead and were staring back at them. Eddie finally noticed the rocks falling from the ceiling. They were the reason Richie had to leave him the last time.

“Eddie, you got fucking _impaled_ , you can’t just fucking _walk out of here_ ,” Richie stressed. “And where’s my jacket? You need to put pressure on the wound –“

“Can we just go?” Eddie glanced over his shoulder as the rocks that fell grew larger. “I’ll explain outside!”

He still had to lean some of his weight on Richie as they rushed out of the sewers, and he fell to the ground once they made it to the street outside Neibolt. He watched with a grim satisfaction as the house fell.

The others were surrounding him now, fussing and arguing over whether they should call an ambulance, over what they could use to staunch the bleeding.

“Guys!” Eddie snapped, looking at all of them. “I’m fine!”

“ _Stop saying that!”_ Richie shrieked, throwing his hands in the air. “Eddie, you –“

“Oh my God,” he muttered, beginning to remove his jacket. Multiple voices yelled at him to watch his wound, to be careful, and Ben questioned out loud if he could be in shock. Once the ruined jacket was off, he pulled his shirt up, ignoring the loud protests of his friends that he would only make his injury worse. He hadn’t actually looked at the wound, only felt it, so once his shirt was off he glanced down at himself. He was covered in blood so badly you could barely see the scar that had formed. He used his dirty jacket to clean himself up as best as he could as Richie yelped frantically.

“That’s so unsanitary, Eddie, you’re going to infect it,” Stan cautioned.

Eddie stood, ignoring his friends. He was a little wobbly, lightheaded, but the raised pink scar down the middle of his chest was finally visible.

“ _What the fuck?”_ Beverly murmured, her hands covering her mouth in shock.

No one else said anything. Eddie’s face burned as the reality of six people staring at him shirtless set in.

“It uh… It healed. When It died. I was dying one minute and then… It was like I was being stitched up from the inside. Still hurts like a fucking bitch. But I – um – I still lost a lot of blood so I’m a little, uh, li-“

He began to falter on his feet, relief washing over him when someone caught him around the waist. He wasn’t sure who it was, or when his eyes had closed. He could hear a jumble of voices in his ears, but he couldn’t make out any of the words. He was vaguely aware of his feet being lifted from the ground, of the sensation of movement, and then nothing.

When he woke, he was first aware of a hard surface underneath his ass and legs, and then that his back and head rested on something soft. He groaned, his temples throbbing and his eyes hurting beneath his closed lids.

“You awake?”

He jolted, opening his eyes against the bright light to see Richie’s face. He opened his mouth to talk but found it so dry he couldn’t.

“Oh, you need some water?” Richie passed him a water bottle. He took a few sips and gagged at the taste of blood still coating his throat. His surroundings began to swim into focus and he wrinkled his brow.

“Why am I in a bathtub in my pants?”

Richie snorted. “Well, you were passed out and your heart rate was kinda fast, which Stan said wasn’t good, and that you needed to lie down, but we didn’t want to get blood and grey water all over any of the beds, and nobody was willing to step up and give you a sponge bath, so. Bathtub.”

Eddie blinked at him.

“C’mon, Eds, you know you would’ve flipped shit if you found out one of us had given you a sponge bath.”

Eddie realized they were in a bathroom at the Townhouse, though it couldn’t be his own because the shower curtain still hung from the rods and blood didn’t cover the tile floor.

“Anyway, Stan said you should eat something, and drink water, and probably sleep.”

“Is Stan my doctor now?”

“Well, he’s the smartest out of all of us, so…”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t make straight A’s, Mr. Salutatorian.”

Richie shrugged, though his cheeks turned pink.

“Anyway,” Eddie said. “Is there anything to eat around here?”

“Yeah, we’ve got stuff to make sandwiches and some fruit. Stan went to the store while you were out. Everybody else is already gone; they’re at a hotel in Bangor. If it’s good with you we’ll go meet them once you’re all cleaned up. There’s a suite with enough room for all of us.”

Eddie nodded, and the movement caused crusted dirty water to fall from his hair. He grimaced. “I think I’m gonna shower first.”

“Good plan,” Richie agreed, standing from the floor and groaning loudly as his knees popped. Eddie bit back calling him an old man, well aware of the creaking sounds his own back made if he stood up too quickly. “I’ll make you a sandwich while you’re in there.”

“You don’t have to do that, Rich.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Dude, you basically died and came back to life. Let me make you a fuckin’ sandwich.”

Eddie huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and wincing as he felt the dried blood there. Before he could respond to Richie, he was closing the bathroom door behind him. Eddie stood slowly, peeling his jeans and underwear off, cringing.

“Rich,” he shouted, pulling the curtain closed and dropping the dirty clothes on the floor. Richie cracked open the door. He tossed the dirty pillow and Richie yelped and dodged it, looking at Eddie with a half-assed glare. Eddie smothered his smile in saccharine. “Can you get my suitcase from my room?”

“Already here, Spaghetti,” he said with an amused huff, and turned around before Eddie could tell him off for the nickname. In a few moments his suitcase was being pushed into the bathroom and the door shut again. With a sigh, he turned the water on, watching the dirty water swirl down the drain until it was clear.

“Where’s your rental?”

Richie paused to look at Eddie. Eddie stared out at the parking lot of the Townhouse, where only his car sat.

“You know, your ostentatious mid-life crisis car?”

Richie scoffed. “It’s not a _mid-life crisis car_ , man.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, opening the trunk of his Escalade to stuff their luggage inside and grimacing at the pull of his sore muscles.

“Bev drove it to the airport to return it for me, which is going to cost me a fuckton for letting someone else drive the car, but… Whatever. Ben followed behind her so they could go from the airport to the hotel since it’s just down the street from the airport anyway. We didn’t want to worry about you having to drive after everything, especially not by yourself.”

“It’s only a half hour drive,” Eddie said indignantly.

“Yeah, and you only basically _died_ five hours ago,” Richie countered.

“How’d you get stuck being my babysitter, then?” Eddie asked as he climbed into the passenger seat. Richie paused, his seatbelt halfway across his body, to look at Eddie incredulously.

“Are you kidding? They wouldn’t have been able to pry me away.”

Eddie blanched, buckling his own seatbelt with shaky hands. Richie didn’t know what Eddie had seen – Richie didn’t know they almost _did_ have to pry him away.

He didn’t seem to notice Eddie’s discomfort as he started the engine. “But, uh, yeah, I offered to stay with you. No big deal.”

“Well. Thanks for staying, then.” Eddie tried to relax into the seat with a slow, deep breath. His body ached but his stomach fluttered pleasantly at Richie’s admission and the sight of light pink dusting his stubbled cheeks. He turned the stereo on, watching as it tried to connect to a Bluetooth device. “Rich, do you know where my phone is?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the screen read “Connected to Edward Kaspbrak’s iPhone”.

“Well. Clearly it’s in the car,” Eddie said uselessly.

“Yeah, it’s in that, like, carry-on bag I packed, the one in the backseat.”

“Carry-on?”

Richie sighed impatiently, as though this were a ridiculous question. “Not – Like – you know, an overnight bag. I got some clothes from my suitcase and my like, toothbrush and shit. And both our chargers and phones. That’s all I took of yours, though, I wasn’t about to open your suitcase.” He paused, then snickered quietly. “ _Edward_.”

“It’s my fucking name,” Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He could feel the raised scar through his thin t-shirt. It caught him off guard – somehow he had already forgotten about the mottled skin on his chest. He’d refused to look in the mirror at the Townhouse, afraid not only that he would see Bowers in the reflection, returned to finish him off, but that he wouldn’t recognize the person staring back at him. He hadn’t had a gash on his cheek or a patched-up hole through his chest the last time he’d examined himself in the mirror.

“You good, man?”

Richie had noticed he’d gone quiet. Eddie looked over at him, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He was quiet, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Eddie watched as the muscles in his arms strained with how tightly he was holding on.

“Rich? Are _you_ good?”

Richie laughed hollowly. “I – I don’t know, man. It’s still… I keep thinking I’m gonna look over and nobody’s gonna be in the passenger seat.”

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. He felt helpless as he looked at the pinched look on Richie’s face. He wanted to make it go away but he didn’t know how.

“No, don’t – It’s not _your_ fault, obviously. I just – you got, you know,” he made a strange gesture with one hand, mimicking something coming out of his chest. “And you were right there, and you just said my name, like - like I could do something? But I couldn’t – you were – and there was blood. And it… the blood was on my glasses, man. And coming out of your mouth. And you looked scared, Eds. You looked _so_ fuckin’ scared. And _I_ was scared. I’ve never been as scared as I was watching that fucking claw drag you away.” He chewed on his lower lip. Eddie tried not to stare. “And you – I thought you were _dead_ , man. I really – 27 years apart and we only got one fucking day together.”

“I didn’t die, though,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if that was technically true. “Think about that instead, if you can. Especially while you’re driving. It’s statistically just as dangerous to drive while you’re crying as it is while you’re texting.”

“That can’t possibly –“ He stopped and shook his head. He chuckled and wiped beneath his eyes, fingers pressing up beneath his glasses. “Yeah. I think I’m definitely going to need some therapy after this.”

Eddie snorted. “Yeah. Maybe we can all see the same therapist and get a group discount.”

Richie barked out a laugh. “Oh! Eds gets off a good one!”

Eddie shook his head, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “You haven’t changed.”

Richie’s smile fell into an exaggerated look of horror.

“Stop, it’s a good thing!” Eddie insisted, still laughing. “Contrary to how I behaved, I liked you back then. And you’re still you, now. It’s a good thing.”

Eddie’s body hummed in contentment at the slight upturn of Richie’s lips. He put his elbow on the center console and dropped his chin into his hand.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that, weirdo,” Richie mumbled.

“I like looking at you, dumbass,” Eddie said. “I haven’t gotten to in over 20 years.”

The pink in Richie’s cheeks darkened and his teeth began to worry his lower lip again. Eddie’s stomach flipped. His happiness was short lived, however, when he felt the cold metal of his wedding band against his face. He sat up, staring down at his left hand. He didn’t even realize he was still wearing it. He glanced quickly at Richie, unaware of Eddie’s internal crisis, and then slipped the ring off. He opened the glove box. He could feel Richie’s eyes on him for a quick moment, before he was looking back out at the road. Eddie waited until he felt his gaze again before he carefully placed the ring inside and closed the compartment.

“Was that your wedding ring?”

“Yep.” He could feel heat in his own cheeks and was thankful Richie was the one driving so he couldn’t stare at Eddie. Richie made a noise of acknowledgment, sounding a little strangled, but didn’t say anything. Eddie cleared his throat and breathed in deeply. Nerves washed over him, but he knew he needed to trust what he’d seen. “I – uh – you remember when I said I had something to tell you? And I said – I said that I fucked your mom?”

Richie grimaced.

“Right. Shitty last words,” Eddie said. “That wasn’t what I wanted to say. I just – I chickened out, I guess. A coward even in the face of death.”

“You’re not a coward,” Richie objected immediately. “You saved my life, man. You’re fucking brave. I told you. Braver than you think.”

Eddie exhaled slowly. “I’m gay.”

Richie’s breath hitched.

“I hope that’s okay,” he continued, when Richie was silent.

“Yeah, of course it’s – I don’t – you’re –“ He stammered. He shook his head firmly, as though clearing his jumbled thoughts. “It’s more than okay.”

Eddie waited for him to say something else, and tried to ignore the way his heart dropped when he didn’t.

“Thanks,” he said finally.

“Course,” Richie said. “You can tell me anything.”

 _Not that I’m in love with you_ , he thought sadly.

They pulled into the parking lot of the large chain hotel where the others had booked a suite. Eddie recognized a few of the cars as belonging to his friends and he hoped they were still awake. He wasn’t sure he could handle much more of Richie by himself, too emotionally raw from his confession.

They were quiet in the lobby, waiting awkwardly for the elevator doors to open.

“Uh,” Richie began, “I got a text from Mike. Room 438. So. 4th floor.”

“Okay,” Eddie said quietly, recognizing Richie’s babbling as a sign of discomfort. He tried to ignore it and focus on his own breathing. He leaned a little on his suitcase as he inhaled deeply for 4, held for 4, and exhaled for 4. His heartrate had slowed a bit, but he still felt tired all the way down to his bones.

When the elevator doors opened, a family of five stepped out, talking loudly amongst themselves, leaving a strange kind of emptiness in Eddie’s chest. He’d missed that feeling for so long. The feeling of family. He was terrified that now that he’d found it again, with the losers, it was going to disappear the same way it did before. He wanted to grab on to the feeling he had when he was with them and never let go.

It was the first moment he was entirely satisfied with his decision to return. He could have that familial love with his father, and even Went, but that could wait. He had another family waiting for him in room 438.

The ride to the 4th floor was quick, but when they stepped out of the elevator Richie grabbed Eddie’s arm. Eddie turned to look at him, heart in his throat.

“I – uh, I need to tell you something, before we’re with the others.”

Eddie nodded, unable to speak.

“It was… You know, you were really brave, in the car. When you – when you said…”

Richie’s eyes were pleading as they stared at Eddie.

“When I said I’m gay?”

Richie nodded jerkily.

Eddie waited quietly as Richie’s chin dropped to his chest and he stared resolutely at the floor.

“It’s weird, but I – I’ve never said it out loud.” As soft as Richie’s voice was, to Eddie it sounded loud in the otherwise silent hallway. “I… I’ve been with – with guys and girls and I’ve had long term relationships with both and I just… never _said_ it. I’ve always known. I knew when we were kids, when you –“

He stopped abruptly and took a small step back, away from Eddie. Panic seized in Eddie’s chest and his breath hitched. He dragged in a slow, deep breath to keep his throat from closing and tried to focus on the air entering his chest. Not now. He couldn’t – he _wouldn’t_ let it happen now.

He closed the short distance Richie had created between them and reached out to gently touch his hand.

“When I…?” Eddie prompted, his free hand clenched in a tight, nervous fist.

Richie seemed to falter, clearing his throat before he spoke. “When you were the only one who came to my 8th birthday.”

It wasn’t what Eddie expected.

“I mean, I wasn’t 8 and like, _‘ah yes, I’m bisexual’_ , but I just – you know, knew I had a crush on you, or whatever.”

Richie’s face was beet red and he wouldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie didn’t let go of his hand. “Me, too. I mean, I didn’t realize it at the time. But I had a – a crush on you or whatever, too.”

He watched Richie swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Oh,” he croaked, running his free hand through his messy hair. Eddie wished he was allowed to run his own hand through Richie’s hair. It was seeming more and more like a possibility, but Richie was only speaking in the past tense, and he wanted to keep his expectations reasonable.

“Yeah,” Eddie confirmed. He squeezed Richie’s hand and finally let go. “So don’t be embarrassed.”

Richie nodded, a crooked smile on his lips. Eddie thought his eyes might be glistening. “So um… Your ring. You took it off. Because – because you’re gay.”

It was a statement but Eddie thought it sounded more like a question.

“Yeah, I took it off – I’m going to get a divorce – because I’m gay. And because I…” He bit his lip. The words were on the tip of his tongue but… He couldn’t say them. Not while his wife didn’t even know he was leaving.

“Because you…” Richie began, and Eddie could clearly see the hope in his eyes. It hurt to shake his head.

“No, nothing – I mean, not nothing, but…” He huffed an awkward laugh and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I need to call my wife.”

Eddie could read the surprise on Richie’s face, but he quickly put on a mask, fake smile on his lips.

“Let’s get inside, then,” he said, turning and walking toward the room, overnight bag on his shoulder. When they entered the room, everyone was seated in the living room – Mike, Stan, and Bill all sitting on the sofa bed while Ben and Bev shared the large armchair.

“Eddie!” Bev cried, jumping from the chair and rushing to him. Her arms were around him before he knew what was happening, and he felt tears sting his eyes as he hugged her back. After a few moments he was surrounded, the group hug so tight it hurt his aching body, but he didn’t care.

“We were waiting up for you,” Bev told him, once the hug ended. He noticed then all of them were wearing some form of pajamas and he smiled, his chest warming with the image of them all gathering in the living room, waiting just to see him.

“You guys didn’t have to do that,” he said. “I’m glad you did, though. What’s – uh, what’s the plan?”

He’d been thinking it since he woke but had been too afraid to voice the question to Richie. He wasn’t sure he could bear hearing Richie tell him just how soon they would all part ways.

“We got the suite for two nights with the option to renew,” Stan said. “I’d like to stay longer but Patty’s still a little freaked about how I left, so…”

Eddie nodded.

“I’ve got to get back to London,” Bill added. “Audra’s worried, too, and I need to finish the script before the director takes over and ruins it.”

“Big Bill, no one could ruin an ending quite like you can,” Richie grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “It should be fine. And hey – no stutter!”

“Haven’t since Neibolt went down,” he said, a pleased smile on his face.

“So you’re both leaving in two days?”

Stan and Bill both nodded. Then Stan said, “But we were already talking about how soon we can all get together again. Holidays, birthdays, stuff like that. We’ll all keep in touch.”

Eddie smiled at him, terrified he was wrong. They didn’t have control over whether they kept in touch the last time.

“Ben and I are going to Nebraska,” Bev said. “But we don’t have to leave so soon.”

“Neither of us have jobs –“

“Or _spouses_ ,” Bev interrupted with a sly grin.

Ben gave her a soft look. “Or spouses,” he agreed, “to get back to. So, we were thinking we’d just… Leave once no one else was left.”

Eddie smiled gratefully at them. Bev gave him a knowing wink, and he thought of the emphasis she’d given the word _spouses_. He glanced at his left hand again, where his ring no longer sat.

“I have a lot to get in order.” Mike looked more alive than he had before. Eddie was glad to see the dullness in his eyes had disappeared. “Work stuff, figuring out what I want to take with me. I’m planning on just getting in my car and going. Not sure where yet. Maybe I’ll end up close to one of you guys.”

“I don’t know where I’m going either,” Eddie admitted. “I mean, I’ll have to get some things from the apartment, there’ll be divorce proceedings and I’ll have to figure out what to do about my job…” His chest began to tighten as he realized how much there was to do. His life had been so comfortable.

“I’ll help you,” Richie offered quietly. Eddie saw he looked sheepish, and he reached over to grab his hand again.

“You have a life to get back to.” Eddie didn’t want to say it, but he knew he needed to give Richie an out. He shouldn’t feel obligated to help Eddie with anything.

“I don’t, really,” Richie shrugged. “My only friends were my agent and my manager and like, I’m pretty sure they’ve never liked me anyway. Besides, the internet thinks I’m in rehab, so I certainly don’t have work obligations. I’ve got more money than any shitty B-list comedian like me deserves, so…”

“Don’t put yourself down, man,” Mike said, clapping a hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“He doesn’t even write his own jokes!” Bev said, laughing.

“I didn’t make my money in comedy,” Richie said mysteriously.

“I’m sorry?” Ben said, eyebrows raised.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Haystack. It’s all in the voice acting.”

“What?” Eddie’s voice was higher than normal, and Richie laughed.

“You seen Inside Out?” Eddie’s eyes widened. “That movie’s given me enough money that I’d never have to work again in my life.”

“Fuck,” Stan said, impressed. “Well. That settles it then, right, Eddie?”

Eddie looked at Stan, who looked more than a little smug and kept glancing between him and Richie. Suddenly Eddie wondered if Stan knew, if he’d known when they were kids.

“That settles it,” he agreed, his face hot. “Anyway, I need to make a phone call. What are the sleeping arrangements?”

“Three bedrooms and the pull out,” Bill answered. “One king, a queen, and two twins. Mike and I are taking the twins, Bev and Ben called the queen. Stan actually _wants_ to sleep on the couch, because he’s crazy.”

“I’m not sleeping with any of you fuckers,” Stan said, grinning when everyone laughed. “I’m not about to share a bed with Richie and wake up in the morning with him spooning me.”

Eddie snorted, watching Richie’s jaw drop with glee. “Stanley!”

Stan just smirked. “Your room’s the one closest to the door.”

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly at Stan before grabbing his suitcase and heading toward the room. Richie dropped his own bag on the floor at the end of the bed, and Eddie reached into it to grab his phone and the charger. He still had 40% battery life, so he plugged the charger into the wall and let it charge while he opened his own suitcase, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt.

“Nice, we got our own bathroom,” Richie said, though his voice was muffled. Eddie looked behind him and saw Richie examining the bathroom.

“Is it up to code?” Eddie asked jokingly.

“All clear, Dr. K,” Richie replied, grinning.

“Good, I need to change.” He said, taking his clothes with him into the bathroom. He changed quickly and felt relief at the sight of the shower with its glass door.

“There was a balcony out there, right?” He asked Richie as he grabbed his phone. The battery had gone up to 45%. Richie nodded at him, already heading into the bathroom himself. Taking a deep breath, Eddie took his phone and left the room, giving Stan a tight smile as he walked by, unlocking and opening the sliding glass door to the small balcony. He sat in the plastic chair that looked terribly uncomfortable and dialed his wife.

In the end, it had taken the better part of an hour just to calm Myra’s sobbing. Eddie felt bad. It wasn’t as though he were blameless – in fact, he accepted pretty much all of the blame. Myra had immediately started crying when she answered the phone on the first ring, as though she’d been waiting for it. Eddie had winced, holding the phone a few inches away from his ear as she shouted worry down the line.

Once he’d manage to calm her down, making up a lie about a childhood friend having passed and that it was sudden and he had to go back to his hometown (he made no mention of his injury), she had asked when he was coming home.

He’d stuttered through his response. He had started with a simple _I’m not coming home, Marty_.

The wailing brought a sinking sensation to his stomach. He had never felt so guilty in his life.

He’d explained that he wasn’t happy, that they just weren’t good for each other, and that he was ready to move on to the next phase of his life and that she should do the same.

He couldn’t understand much of what she said after that, other than the occasional cry of his name, the _-ie_ dragged out in a high pitch. Finally, she wore herself out, and Eddie spoke again.

“I’m sorry, Marty,” he said honestly. “I hate hurting you. I wish I didn’t have to.”

“You don’t have to,” she cried.

“I do,” he insisted, sucking in a deep breath and closing his eyes. “I’m being unfair to you by being in this relationship.”

She sniffled.

His heart was ready to beat out of his chest. “It’s unfair because I can’t love you the way you deserve to be loved. I… I’m gay, Myra.”

There was a pause and Eddie held his breath.

“What?” She whimpered.

“I didn’t – I didn’t realize it, Marty. For a long time. But I can’t stay in this relationship anymore.”

He could hear her crying softly, and with a jolt he realized this was softer, sadder than her earlier sobbing. Suddenly the tears weren’t fear, they were sadness.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, trying to alleviate the guilt that settled in his gut like a stone. “I’ll be by in the next few weeks to get some stuff, and I’ll speak to a lawyer. You should – You should call your sister, see if she’ll come stay with you for a few days so you’re not alone. I don’t – I’m just… Sorry.”

He heard her blow her nose and he grimaced at the sound. “Okay,” she agreed, the fight knocked out of her voice. “I’ll call Melanie. Maybe she and I can go to that nice Italian place down the street for dinner…”

“That’s a great idea,” Eddie told her, leaning his head on his palm, elbow resting on his knee. His phone beeped against his ear, signifying low battery. He felt guilty for the relief that washed over him. “I’m low on battery, so I’m going to go now, Marty. I’ll – I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Bye, Eddie,” she croaked, and he hit the red circle on his screen before he could hear anymore. He was relieved she seemed accepting of the divorce; he’d been afraid of a reaction similar to his mother’s the first time he’d tried to move out. He ended up back home within a week. But Myra wasn’t manipulative the way his mother was. Selfish, maybe, but more out of a deep fear of the world than any pathological need to control him. It was why they had been able to live so harmoniously.

He sat still for a few moments, breathing in the air that smelled a bit like cigarette smoke – he wondered if Bev had been out here before he and Richie had arrived. It wasn’t a pleasant smell by any means, and his Mind Mother reminded him that second-hand smoke can just as easily give you lung Cancer as actually smoking, but at the very least it was a familiar smell. It was a smell that reminded him of the losers club, of the clubhouse, of friends that were more like family. He and Stan had been the only two to never try it, but they were almost always surrounded by the smell. If someone wasn’t actively smoking, then the scent lingered on clothes and in the cloth of the hammock.

Idly, he wondered if Richie still smoked. He’d already seen Bev with a cigarette since their return to Maine, but he couldn’t recall anyone else smoking. He supposed he and Bev were the only two that hadn’t managed to kick their bad habits. He thought it might have something to do with their parents, the way each of them had one that left them broken – although he hated to use that term with regards to Beverly. Beverly wasn’t broken. Beverly was a fighter. Beverly had left her husband; so what if she needed to smoke? It certainly wasn’t the same as Eddie, who probably wouldn’t have been able to leave his wife if she’d put up any kind of fight, who used an inhaler the he knew was a placebo, who, in some way, still saw himself as delicate, no matter how many times his own actions proved him wrong.

Beverly wasn’t broken. But Eddie was.

He sniffled, trying to keep the moisture in his eyes at bay. Just as he wiped under his eyes to catch falling tears, the door opened. He jolted, only settling when he realized it was Richie.

“Hey – are you okay?” Richie asked, concern written clearly on his features.

Eddie swallowed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just being stupid, I guess.”

Richie crouched down, using the arm of Eddie’s chair to keep himself upright. “You’re not stupid. Is it – I mean, is it your wife?”

Eddie couldn’t help it; he laughed. Richie stared at him, bewildered.

“No, not that. I took care of that; she knows I want a divorce. I don’t think she’s okay with it yet but… hopefully she’ll find someone better for her and she’ll realize how unhealthy we were together. We just gave into our compulsions and never said anything about it. I let her eat whatever she wanted, even when I knew it wasn’t good for her, because she let me use my aspirator and take my vitamins and reminded me to wear my raincoat. We just…”

“Enabled each other?” Richie finished for him.

He nodded.

“I uh… I had a relationship like that, when I was like, 28 or so. I don’t know if we ever actually loved each other? We just both had… uh, bad habits. And I didn’t say anything to him because I knew if I did he’d turn it back around on me. So I turned the other way when he indulged, and he turned the other way when I did.”

Eddie’s stomach lurched at Richie casually mentioning an ex-boyfriend.

“Was it.. um, you don’t have to tell me, but… was it drugs?”

Richie smiled wryly. “It was for him. I’m just an alcoholic.”

“You – _what?”_

Richie sighed sadly. “Probably shouldn’t have told you that, huh?”

Eddie sputtered. “What – I – you –“

“Don’t hurt yourself, Eds,” Richie said softly. “It started in college. It didn’t feel like I was doing anything wrong, because everybody drinks way too fucking much in college. But I just didn’t stop. And as my tolerance grew I just started drinking more. I’d actually gotten a lot better about it, the last few years. My doctor basically told me I was well past fucking up my liver and that I needed to stop if I wanted to live past 60, but… You know. Derry.”

Eddie’s eyes were wide and he reached out to put a comforting hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“When you stopped before… Did you have help?”

“Nah.” Richie avoided his eyes. “Just started drinking less and less til I was only having a few drinks a week. Which was still probably more than I should, but… Progress.”

“Maybe that’s what should be different this time,” Eddie said. “Go to therapy, join AA or something. I mean, we’re all gonna end up in therapy after this, but… Talk about it. You can get even better than you were before. Because I’m not going to let you die before 60, okay? If you died I’d fucking –“

Richie laughed loudly as Eddie stopped mid-sentence and stumbled over his words.

“Eddie, were you just about to tell me that if I died you’d fucking kill me?”

Eddie crossed his arms, glaring at Richie. “Perhaps.”

Richie laughed harder.

“Shut the fuck up. Keep laughing asshole, I’ll make sure you’re dead way before 60.”

“Aw, Eds, you care!” Richie said through his laughter.

“I just don’t want you to die, so the fuck what?”

“ _So the fuck what?”_

“I’m going to throw you over the balcony, dude.”

“Sorry, I just –“ He took a breath to calm down. “It’s just weird, how alike we are. I mean, we do it in different ways, but we both deflect. You know? You get angry and say _fuck_ a lot, I make jokes and use Voices. Neither of us ever say how we really feel or what we’re actually thinking.”

Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but no words came to mind. He stared at Richie, who was looking resolutely at the sky over the railing. Somehow he always forgot how intuitive, how intelligent, Richie could be until he went and said something like that. It happened a lot as kids – Richie would say something and Eddie would be up all night thinking about it and wondering how Richie had gotten to be so smart.

Eddie stared at him without saying anything, sure there was admiration in his eyes that he didn’t know how to hide. Richie stood up, holding a hand out for Eddie, and together they made their way back to the bedroom. Eddie put his phone back on the charger and put it on Do Not Disturb, and when he turned around Richie was sitting on the bed, hands on his knees, watching him. Like he was waiting for something.

“Um,” Eddie began, fidgeting with his hands and standing in the middle of the hotel room. “When we were talking earlier, in the hall… And I said, uh, I was getting a divorce because I’m gay…”

Richie nodded slightly, his face a mask void of any emotions. Eddie hated the way he could hide what he felt so well.

“I started to say – Well, I was going to –“ He huffed, running a hand through his hair. Richie’s eyes followed the movement. “There’s another reason, and I couldn’t say it until after I talked to Myra.”

Richie’s eyes seemed to widen in recognition. “Yeah, I – Yeah.”

Eddie chuckled under his breath. He looked down at the carpet beneath his feet, his heart in his throat.

“The other reason is, um, because I’m in love with you.”

He breathed out slowly, eyes closed and focused on his lungs opening back up for his next inhale.

He jolted when hands softly grabbed his own. He opened his eyes to see Richie standing inches in front of him.

“Oh,” he mumbled mindlessly. Richie didn’t say anything, and Eddie couldn’t read his face not because it was void of emotion, but because it seemed a million feelings were flitting across his features at once. He decided to continue, at least now that Richie hadn’t yelled at him or run from the room. “I don’t need you to – to do anything, or feel anything back, it’s fine, I just thought…”

The image of Richie and their friends in the lobby of the Townhouse after the phone call with Myra swept into his mind. He could hear Richie crying, could hear his words from that dreamworld in the back of his mind.

_He should’ve gotten to know there was somebody that loved him more than anything._

“I just thought you deserved to know there’s somebody that loves you more than anything,” he said quietly, and his breathing settled.

He could hear Richie’s breath hitch and suddenly his hands were empty, and Richie was cupping his cheek and the back of his neck, pulling him forward until their lips met.

Eddie lit up, his hands reaching up to grab Richie’s shoulders, feeling like he needed something to hold himself up. His legs were weak, his heart was racing. He had no idea how long the kiss lasted, but he was sure it was too short. When their lips separated, he was out of breath in the best way.

“Eds,” Richie murmured, pressing his forehead against Eddie’s. Eddie released a wet laugh, letting his hands slide backward to wrap around Richie’s neck. He could feel the brush of hair against his fingers. Richie kissed him again, just a short brush of lips – one, two, three times, until Eddie was laughing.

“Stop!” He giggled, turning his head so Richie’s lips landed on his cheek.

“Stop kissing you?” Richie asked, voice muffled against his skin. “Never.”

A wave of happiness washed over him at the words, and he turned his face back, catching Richie’s lips in a kiss that lasted much longer than the first. They moved to the bed, lying next to each other and pressing soft kisses to each other’s mouths, cheeks, foreheads. It was quiet and dark in the room so that they couldn’t see where their legs tangled together beneath the blankets, couldn’t see their hands wrapped around each other. But they could feel it, Eddie could feel everything, every inch of his body not on fire, but a soft, warm glow radiating from inside his skin.

“Hey,” Richie whispered into the small space between them, a rare moment their lips were disconnected.

“Hm?”

“I love you, too,” he said softly. Eddie couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t say it earlier because I got kind of distracted.”

Eddie snorted a laugh. “Distracted?”

“By your lips, baby,” Richie said in some kind of Voice, making Eddie laugh more. “But seriously,” he continued in his own voice, once Eddie was quiet again. “I love you. And – whatever you said. More than anything else in the world. For my whole life, for forever, all that jazz.”

The corner of Eddie’s lips turned up in an amused smirk and he pressed forward again, letting their lips come together for a short moment until he was just smiling. “Me, too,” he said, squeezing Richie’s hand. “For my whole life, for forever, all that jazz.”

“Good to know.” Richie’s voice was sincere and Eddie curled up even closer, letting his head rest on Richie’s broad chest. Richie’s hand traveled slowly and softly up and down his spine, and Eddie knew he could feel the scarred skin beneath his shirt. He wondered briefly if that was the point, that the scar was proof that Eddie was alive. Either way he was comfortable, soft and warm and the happiest he could ever remember being. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again it was morning, and he was still in Richie’s arms.


End file.
